THE GENERAL'S DISGRACED HEIR

"My Lord," Seraphina called out softly, her voice barely masking the curiosity that had been gnawing at her. David didn't turn to face her, continuing his steady pace forward. "Is something troubling you, Seraphina?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

"Not precisely," she replied, her tone measured. "But there are a few details I need to confirm with you to finalize the registration forms."

David clasped his hands behind his back, his stride unwavering. "Of course," he responded, "but we have other matters to attend to first." His words piqued Seraphina's curiosity. "May I inquire as to what those matters might be, my lord?" she ventured, eager to understand her enigmatic master.

"Rats," David said, his tone firm but not unkind. Before she could probe further, he added, "We have a pest problem within our household, Seraphina. Rats, of a particularly insidious kind and I require your assistance"

Seraphina's eyes widened, her shoulders slumping slightly in disappointment. "I see your reasoning, my lord, but I…I believe I can be of little assistance in such matters," she confessed, expecting him to be displeased. The truth was, she had never bothered with the spies they had planted within his household, largely out of laziness.

David, however, was unfazed. He knew her well, having studied her character through the novel. "Don't worry about that for now," he said calmly, "just make yourself visible and as pretty as you are now." His words caught her off guard, leaving her with a sense of unease. David was up to something again, and she could feel it. She didn't fully grasp what he meant by being "visible and pretty," but she couldn't deny the warmth that spread through her at being called pretty.

As they approached the fortress gate of the castle, a De Gor soldier stationed in the watchtower caught sight of Draven's imposing figure. Panic surged through him, and he shouted down to the guards below, "We're under attack!" But before the alarm could be raised, his superior smacked him on the head, eyes narrowed in scrutiny. "Look closer, you fool," he reprimanded the greenhorn on duty.

The soldier squinted and realized his mistake. "At ease, men! Open the gates for the lord and his companions," the superior ordered, calming the tense soldiers below as they recognized David's return.

As the gates rose, the soldiers stepped aside, making way for David and his two formidable companions. The superior couldn't help but wonder what David was doing with such powerful Masters—one of whom bore the unmistakable traits of a witch. He dismissed the thought quickly, knowing how the human nobility detested witches.

At the castle's front entrance, David paused and looked up at his towering knight. "Stay here. I'll have someone guide you to me later," he instructed, and Draven bowed respectfully. Turning to Seraphina, David gestured towards the entrance. "Shall we?"

As they walked through the stone corridors, Seraphina admired the castle's grandeur. "Nice home," she remarked, her eyes lingering on the fortress's might.

David met her gaze with a slight smile. "You think so?" Though the castle radiated power and splendour, David knew it was a place where politics and strength reigned supreme. Without those, one was nothing more than prey for the wolves.

They arrived at a double oak door intricately carved with two winged knights holding a sword at the centre. David's gaze fell on Seraphina, his tone shifting to one of caution. "Keep your guard up," he advised, rapping his knuckles against the door. Seraphina felt her nerves tighten, but before she could steady herself, a voice from within commanded them to enter.

David reached out to push the heavy oak doors open, revealing the Earl's private office chamber. The room exuded an air of authority, its walls lined with tall shelves filled with ancient tomes, their spines worn from years of use. A large, ornate chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting a warm, flickering light across the space.

Seraphina's gaze immediately fell upon the man seated behind a lavish, dark mahogany desk, his form imposing and regal. The Earl, with his sharp, aristocratic features, was deep in concentration, his blue eyes scanning the stack of documents before him.

His hair, black as night, was slicked back neatly, revealing a well-groomed beard that framed his stern expression. Clad in an elegantly tailored black coat with gold embroidery, he emanated an aura of both nobility and menace. The Earl's presence dominated the room, a stark contrast to the vibrant world outside the castle walls.

As David and Seraphina entered, the Earl's quill stilled. He slowly raised his gaze, locking eyes with David. A ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

"Your visits have become far more frequent, David," the Earl remarked, his voice smooth but laced with a subtle edge. His blue eyes flickered to Seraphina, scrutinizing her from head to toe. She stood beside David, her midnight-flowing dress accentuating her pale, ethereal beauty. Her black raven hair cascaded down her shoulders, adorned with an iconic hat surrounded by black roses—a mark of her identity.

The Earl's expression hardened as he took in Seraphina's appearance. His eyes narrowed as realization dawned on him. "A witch," he hissed, his voice dripping with disdain. The atmosphere in the room shifted abruptly, becoming heavy and suffocating. The Earl's sapphire eyes darkened, an ominous crimson aura beginning to swirl around him, thickening the air with its oppressive weight.

Seraphina felt the full force of the Earl's wrath pressing down on her, like an invisible hand squeezing the air from her lungs. Her knees wobbled, and she fought to stay upright, her heart pounding in her chest. The Earl's gaze was as cold as ice, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "What is a witch doing in my estate?" he demanded, his words laced with venom.

But before the Earl's aura could fully crush Seraphina, a unique dark blue aura erupted from David, enveloping her in its protective embrace. The two forces collided in the air, the clash sending ripples of energy throughout the room. David's aura, though calm and controlled, held a power that matched the Earl's own.

The Earl's eyes widened slightly at the unexpected resistance. He narrowed them once more, his expression turning cold. "Are you challenging my authority, David?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

David met the Earl's gaze unflinchingly, his expression as cold as the night. "When it comes to the people I care about, yes," he replied, his voice steady and unwavering. "But I suggest you retract your aura, my lord."

The Earl's lips curled into a mocking smile, his aura intensifying as it flared with renewed ferocity. The dark crimson energy swirled around him like a storm, threatening to overpower David's protective shield. The room trembled under the sheer force of the Earl's power, the very walls seeming to groan in protest.

"Bold words, David," the Earl sneered, his tone dripping with condescension. "You've become much bolder, too bold for your own good."

Seraphina stood quietly, her heart racing as she watched the two men clash. The air crackled with tension, the room filled with the oppressive weight of their combined auras. She could hardly believe what she was witnessing—David, the enigmatic and aloof man she had come to know, was standing up to the Earl his father, defying his authority to protect her.

The earl's presence was a tempest, a maelstrom of power that threatened to shatter David's resolve. His bones felt like brittle ice, his heart a frantic drumbeat against his ribs. The man was a titan, a force of nature beyond the pale of ordinary human experience.

Days of relentless training back on earth had forged him into a weapon, sharp and deadly. He'd faced down masters, weathered storms of steel, and emerged unbroken. Yet, the earl was an entirely different beast. A predator on a higher plane of existence.

Panic was a luxury he couldn't afford. Should this encounter turn, he would unleash Luna, a shadow-born Fenrir, to buy them time. Escape was a viable option, but Seraphina was a non-negotiable. She was a piece in his intricate game, a queen on his invisible chessboard. To lose her would be to forfeit a crucial advantage.

Fear gnawed at him, but determination was its icy counterpoint. He stood firm, a lone tree against the hurricane. The earl was a storm, yes, but so too was he. And storms collide.

****

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